Don't Wake the Dead Page 20
Chapter
The rest of the night was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
A horde of sheriff’s deputies descended upon my home. Their squad cars roared up the street, sirens screaming and lights flashing. There were at least six parked around my house, even on my lawn, and several more on the opposite side of the street.
It looked as though every deputy on duty, and even quite a few off duty, had shown up for this call.
If it hadn’t been too little, too late, the level of response might have impressed me.
The sheriff himself was one of the first to arrive on scene. By that time, the first deputy on the scene, Deputy Klausen, had called for two ambulances. One for Trisha Dwyer and one for me.
I tried to convince him that I was fine, but he’d merely walked me to the mirror in my foyer so I could see my reflection. At the sight of the red and purple bruising on the left side of my face, extending from my hairline to my chin, I stopped arguing. My cheekbone didn’t ache. It hurt. The pain increased with each beat of my heart.
My head was pounding and my stomach didn’t feel so hot either. As soon as the deputy saw the expression on my face, he guided me to my couch, wrapped a blanket around me, and went in search of something for me to drink.
He returned with a glass of ice water and a bucket.
“What’s the bucket for?” I asked blandly.
“In case you need to puke.”
I stared at him in consternation. “Why would I need to do that?”
He squatted down in front of me. “I’m pretty sure you have a concussion, Ms. Thorne. Nausea is a common symptom. I thought you might prefer not to run for the bathroom.”
Faintly, I nodded, because he was right. My stomach was queasy and I was in no shape to make a mad dash to the bathroom under the stairs if I needed to vomit.
“Could you call my parents please, Deputy Klausen?” I asked softly. “My dad’s work buddies listen to the scanner and I don’t want one of them to call him with this news.”
“I’ll have them meet us at the hospital.”
I nodded and gingerly leaned back on the couch. I felt someone else sit next to me and turned my head to peek from beneath my lashes. It was Mal.
“Hey,” I greeted him, my voice little more than a whisper.
Now that the adrenaline was fading, I could barely stand to talk, the sound of my own voice turned the ache in my skull into excruciating pain.
“Your head hurt?” Mal asked, his voice just as quiet.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t say anything else, just reached out and curled an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side so that my uninjured cheek rested against his chest.
We remained like that until the ambulance arrived.
Four hours later, my headache was better but it was threatening to return to its former glory because of my parents.
“Baby, you need to be home with us so we can keep an eye on you,” my father insisted. “The doctor said as much.”
“No, he didn’t,” I argued, keeping my voice low. “He said that someone needed to wake me up every so often. That was it. Mal is going to stay with me tonight. He can do it.”
The expression on my father’s face would have made me laugh on any other night. Tonight, however, it meant more arguing and I didn’t have the energy for it.
“Dad, I’m hurting and nauseated. I’m going to be miserable for at least twenty-four hours. I’d like to experience that misery in the comfort of my own bed, okay? If you guys want to stay with me so you can be sure I’m taken care of, so be it. I just want to go home.”
“Zoe,” my dad began.
“We’ll go home and pack a bag. We’ll meet you and Mal at the house,” my mother stated, hooking her hand around Dad’s arm. “Come on, Jimmy. I need to pick up a few things at the supermarket before we meet them and it’ll be opening soon.”
I winced at her words, realizing that it was fast approaching six a.m. I just wanted to pop a few pain pills and sleep for a week. Which sucked because the doctor didn’t want me to take anything stronger than Tylenol. I also knew that my mother would be waking me up every hour on the hour to make sure I hadn’t slipped into a coma, even though the doctor had explained that I needed plenty of rest.
An hour and half later, Mal carried me from the car into the house.
“I can walk,” I insisted. “You’re injured too. You shouldn’t be carrying me.”
“I’m not arguing with you about this while you’re hurt. So just be quiet.”
“Mal—”
“You saved my life, Zoe. I’m carrying your ass into that house and sleeping on the couch for the next few days until you’re feeling better. Then we can argue about what you can and can’t do for yourself.”
I sighed heavily and rested my sore head on his shoulder. I honestly didn’t have the strength to argue anyway. The stress and pain had taken their toll. All I wanted was a dark, cool room, a big glass of water, and rest.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue,” I yawned.
I was fighting sleep as he carried me upstairs and laid me on my bed. My mother didn’t speak as she began to help me change my clothes.
“Can I get a glass of ice water?” I asked. “I’m really thirsty.”
“Of course, honey,” she replied softly.
I curled up beneath the blankets as she left the room, my eyes drifting shut.
“Here you are, Zoe. You need to wake up and drink this so you can take your pills.”
I pried my eyelids open and stared blearily at her. “Okay.”
I swallowed a couple of Tylenol down with several large sips of water, the frigid liquid soothing my sore throat and dry mouth.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she answered.
I felt the bed shift next to my hip and her cool hand brushing my hair gently from my forehead. It felt wonderful and reminded me of the few times I was sick as a child. My mother always managed to make me feel better just by stroking my hair.
“Zoe,” she whispered.
“Yeah, Mom.”
“I don’t think I could stand it if something happened to you,” she breathed. “I love you, baby.”
“Love you too, Mama,” I replied, turning over onto my side.
Then I stopped fighting and let sleep come.
Chapter
A hand touched my shoulder, waking me from the light doze I’d fallen into.
“Already?” I sighed.
“How are you feeling? Is the headache better?” my mother queried in a low voice.
“Mom, I’ve told you every hour for the past six that I’m okay. My headache is easing off and the nausea isn’t bad as long as I don’t move. Can we do this in say, another three hours?” I tried to modulate my tone so that I didn’t sound bitchy, but I was exhausted so I wasn’t sure that I succeeded. I knew that she had to be as tired as I was and I appreciated that she was concerned, but I knew the best thing for me would be uninterrupted sleep.
She paused. “I’ll give you two. If you’re doing okay after that, then we’ll go for three.”
Grateful for the compromise, I said, “That’s fine.”
“Do you need anything?”
I cracked one eyelid to see my mother hovering over me with Teri floating behind her. “Sleep.”
She shook her head. “Fine,” she replied with a sigh.
I waited until the door clicked shut before I nestled deeper into the bed and let myself drift off.
When my mother woke me a few hours later, I genuinely felt better and my stomach had settled almost completely. I could hear the faint sounds of men talking downstairs, but I was too tired to try and eavesdrop. Teri was still standing against the wall, keeping silent watch.
The next time I woke up, I did it on my own. The sun was rapidly setting, the room was dark, and I realized I’d slept the day away. Teri seemed to have abandoned her watch.
My legs were shaky and weak as I slowly made my way to the bathroom. Once I’d used the facilities and washed my face and hands, I felt a lot better.
Until I looked in the mirror.
I couldn’t help it. I started to cry when I saw my face. Though the doctor said that it was a miracle no bones were broken, there was massive bruising and swelling. The entire left side of my face was purple with splotches of black. My left eye was swollen nearly shut.
Seeing the damage that Steven Dwyer had done to my face with one punch, it hit me how lucky I was to be alive and the tears kept falling. If Teri hadn’t been able to stop Steve from shooting Mal or I hadn’t reacted quickly enough to stop Trisha from pulling her gun, we might both be dead.
I lowered myself onto the edge of my tub and sobbed until there were no tears left. I cried for everything that Hank Murphy had lost, and the relief that I hadn’t lost my life as well.
As the storm of emotion ebbed, I rose and staggered to the sink. Grabbing a washcloth, I turned the tap on cold and dampened the material so I could wipe the remnants of my crying jag from my face.
Once that was done, I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail and went into my bedroom to get dressed. I was just pulling on a pair of light cotton pajama bottoms when my mother stuck her head inside.
“You’re up.” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah. All I needed was a few solid hours and I feel a lot better.”
She came into the room and shut the door behind her. “Do you need help?”
“Nope,” I answered. “I’m a little stiff, but I can manage.” I walked into my closet and found my oldest, softest t-shirt and a comfortable cotton bra. As I changed, I asked, “What time is it?” I hadn’t looked at the clock when I got up.
“After seven,” she replied. “Are you hungry? I made chicken soup and homemade rolls for dinner.”
At her words my stomach rumbled loudly.
“My stomach says yes,” I declared as I emerged from the closet to find that my mother had neatly made my bed and picked up my clothes from the floor. “Mom, you don’t have to clean up after me,” I insisted. “I can do it.”
“You can do it tomorrow or the next day when you’re feeling better. Today, I’ll do it.”
I sighed but didn’t argue because I wasn’t sure how my head would feel if I had to bend down.
“Thanks for making dinner,” I commented as I walked down the stairs behind her.
“It’s no trouble at all. I thought your stomach might not tolerate anything heavier.”
She was probably right.
As the living room came into view, I saw Mal and my dad sprawled in chairs on opposite ends of the couch and heard the sounds of a football game. My dad’s eyes scanned me as I came down the last few steps.
“You’re moving better,” he stated, getting to his feet.
“I feel better,” I responded.
He walked to me and pulled me in for a gentle hug. “What did I tell you about scaring me like that again, Zoe?”
I sighed. “I didn’t really have much choice.”
His arms tightened around me. “I know, but I don’t like knowing that my little girl was in danger and I wasn’t here to protect her.”
I didn’t have to look up to know that he was probably giving Mal a hard look over my head.
“Well, it’ll please you to know I’m thinking about getting a dog and maybe a stun gun.”
“The dog sounds great, but I think you should keep that shotgun I gave you in the bedroom instead of the coat closet,” he argued.
“Yeah, I realized that when I woke up and figured out that people were in my house.”
At my acknowledgement, my dad sighed and released me. “Lesson learned the hard way, I guess. Your mom has had that soup simmering all afternoon and smacked the hell out of my hand when I tried to sneak a roll, so how about we go eat?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.” I glanced at Mal as my parents disappeared into the kitchen. “How are you feeling today?” I asked him.
“I’m fine,” he answered. He reached out and ran a finger lightly down the left side of my face. “You look like you went ten rounds with a heavyweight champ.”
Though his touch didn’t hurt, I flinched as it reminded me of the state of my face.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, jerking his hand away.
“Not my face, no. Just my vanity.”
He grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“Well, the doctor said that I don’t have any permanent damage, just a couple weeks with a very colorful face, so I really shouldn’t be so sensitive.”
“I still think you look great,” Mal responded, earning a scornful look from me. “What? I like my women rough and tumble.”
Despite my sensitivity about the bruising, I laughed. Mal always seemed to know exactly what to say to cheer me up.
“You’re strange,” I stated.
Mal shrugged. “What can I say? I have peculiar preferences.”
Shaking my head I took a step toward the kitchen, only to have Mal’s hand curve around my arm.
“Thank you for saving my life,” he said quietly.
“It was only partially me. Teri’s the one who shoved Dwyer’s arm when he was about to shoot you.”
Mal nodded. “I’ll have to thank her too.” He pulled me into a hug. “But I did notice that you jumped Trisha Dwyer even though she was obviously armed. I appreciate it. If you hadn’t…” he trailed off.
I wrapped my arms around him, offering him comfort because I had a feeling he hadn’t had a chance to process what happened. It was likely that he was experiencing the same overwhelming emotions I had in my bathroom earlier; the relief, the fear. We’d come too close to dying.
“So, what does one do to thank a ghost for saving their life?” Mal asked as he released me from the hug and stepped back.
I considered him for a moment. “Well, you could give Teri a little show later. She thinks you have a nice ass.”
For the first time since I met him, Mal seemed speechless. “Huh?”
“You know, a striptease,” I continued. “Teri is always lamenting that she hasn’t been close to a naked guy in thirty years. It’d be the highlight of her decade.”
I bit back a grin as a red flush worked its way up Mal’s neck and face.
“Uh, maybe, well, I’m not sure…” he stuttered.
Laughing, I waved a hand. “I’m teasing you.”
The blush began to fade from his cheeks and he looked chagrined. “Oh.”
“Though if you wanna sleep naked in the guest room sometime, I’m sure she’d be satisfied.”
I laughed as the bright crimson color returned to Mal’s cheeks and left him standing in the living room as I went in search of dinner.
Chapter
After dinner, I convinced my parents that I would be fine on my own for the night. The nausea had disappeared completely after two helpings of my mother’s chicken soup and three yeast rolls smothered in butter, and while my head still hurt, I could handle the dull ache. As long as I didn’t move too quickly, then the pain spiked once again.
It took Mal promising to look in on me several times during the night before my parents would even consider leaving. As much as I loved them, I needed peace and quiet in order to rest and heal.
Once I explained that I would have an easier time resting without people around, my father finally caved but insisted that he and my mom would come over the next day to make sure I was healing properly.
I took what I could get and agreed.
As my mother gathered their overnight bag and her purse, she said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The sheriff came by earlier today hoping to take your statement. I told him you were in no condition to talk and that he should return tomorrow. He’ll be here around ten.”
&nbs
p; I bit back a sigh. I hadn’t given the sheriff a single thought since I’d been released from the hospital early that morning. I knew I would have to talk to him and the sooner I got it over with, the better.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She nodded sharply. “He tried to convince me to let him talk to you today, but I told him that you were in no shape. I know your daddy thinks highly of him, but that man is a bit of a bully when he wants his way.”
I chuckled. “I have to agree with you there,” I stated.
My dad sighed. “I said he was a good sheriff, that’s all. We need somebody in office that won’t pander to the well-to-do folks and stand up for all the citizens of the county.”
“That may be true, Jimmy,” my mother snapped, “But he was there at the hospital last night and I know for a fact that the doctor told him it would be at least twenty-four hours before Zoe would be well enough to speak with him. He ignored the doctor’s orders!”
My dad frowned. “That ain’t right.”
Before my parents could descend into dissecting Sheriff Daughtry’s actions, I stated, “Well, I’ll be well enough to talk to him tomorrow and I’d like to get this over with so I don’t have to think about Trisha and Steven Dwyer anymore.”
They immediately stopped talking about Daughtry.
“Of course, baby,” my father said. “We’ll get out of here so you can go lie down and we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I stated, rising up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. I gave my mother a kiss as well. “Thanks for everything, Mama.”
My mother’s hands clasped my forearms as she looked intently into my eyes. “I would do anything for you, Zoe, and it would be my pleasure.”
I blinked, surprised at the vehemence behind her words, but she let go of my arms before I had a chance to formulate an appropriate response.
“We’ll be back around noon with lunch,” she stated, following my dad out the front door.
As soon as they were gone, I glanced at Mal. “Do you wanna talk or watch TV?”
“TV. I’m talked out. The sheriff took my statement at the department earlier today.”